A Conversation about the True Face of Evil (Coda 13x12)
by Johanna8D
Summary: This is a continuation of season 13 episode 12: Various and Sundry Villains, where a conversation plays out between Sam and Dean that I believe should've happened in the show. I felt something was missing and I was distressed about Sam's depression so I wrote this xD I hope you like it! No slash, just bromance :) Warning: Rating because of what could be interpreted as self harm.


He had finally fallen asleep. Sam's thoughts had been racing all night, images of agony that he's tried to repress flashing through his mind. But he must've finally fallen asleep, because he wakes up with the nightmare still burning in his head. He'd expected as much- his conversation with Rowena has brought memories of Lucifer closer to his consciousness.

Sam wiped some sweat from his forehead, which had built up on his forehead despite the fact that he was shivering with fear, still breathing rapidly. He threw an eye at the alarm clock on his nightstand; 4 AM. He'd slept for 3 hours. Good enough, he thought. There was no way he was going back to sleep, he'd decided.

Sam untangled himself from the messy sheets, getting out of the bed. He stepped out into the hallway which felt significantly cooler, the floor like ice against his bare feet. He leaned against the wall, resting his forehead on the cool surface. It felt nice, to not be burning anymore. If only he could scrub the image from his eyes... but Lucifer's real face was edged into his memory forever, carved painfully into his very eyes. He suddenly felt unclean, an itching feeling right beneath his skin that he couldn't quite reach. It was a sensation that was sadly not entirely new to him, and he decided to take a shower. He made the water as cold as he could bare against his skin, letting it stream over him, imagining it could wash away the memories that heaved him down. There was suddenly a brief flashback to a cold shower in a dirty basement and the despair of thinking that his big brother was dead. He shivered and turned the water off. That was enough.

He headed into the kitchen and went to make some coffee. The clock on the coffee machine read 5.32 AM. Sam sighed and sat down, scrubbing a hand across his face. It was going to be a long day. For a moment, just a split second, he thought about waking Dean up. He thought about talking to him about- about _it_ , for the first time. Then he abruptly shook the thought away. The fact was, Sam wouldn't even know where to begin. He wouldn't even be able to find the right words. There was no earthly way to describe what haunted him in his nightmares and now even in his waking state. And even if he could describe it, he wouldn't want to put that on Dean. That wouldn't be fair to him. In all his suffering, it was easy for Sam to forget that Dean had gone to hell as well. To some degree, there was a silent understanding between them - Dean knew, partly, what Sam was going through. But to go deeper than that... it wasn't possible.

Sam poured himself a cup of coffee and started sipping it. He placed his elbow on the table and rested his chin on the open palm of his hand, his gaze stuck on something far away. At least Rowena knew. At least there was someone else who had gone through what he had and survived. Somebody else was living with it. In a weird way, it comforted him - even though it was Rowena, of all people, it made him feel better to know that it was survivable. That he wouldn't lose his mind. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe he was the living proof. Maybe Rowena would be watching him to see if it was survivable. Sam didn't know. He'd survived for eight years, at least, but he didn't know if it counted as living. Lucifer had made him doubt what was real and that never really went away. Sam suddenly felt endlessly tired. Not tired like he wanted to go back to sleep, but tired like someone who'd been carrying the weight of the world for too long.

There was a sudden crash and the sound of porcelain shattering against the floor. Sam blinked, staring at his feet. There lay the broken remains of his coffee cup. He must have nodded of and the cup slipped from his hand, seemingly as easy as reality could escape his grasp from time to time. He bent down and picked the broken pieces up, unflinching as the sharp edges bit into his hand. When he dropped them on the table they made a dull sound, not as piercing as it had sounded smashing into the hard floor. Absentmindedly he spread the pieces out, his long fingers piecing them together the best he could, even though he knew it was past saving. There was no gluing it together, just like there was no gluing Sam together. Sometimes it felt like it was all duct tape keeping him together. _"Dear boy, you're all duct tape and safety pins inside."_ The voice echoed through his mind.

"Sam?"

Sam raised his head, his eyes falling on his brother standing in the doorway, a confused look on his face.

"Yeah?" Sam replied.

Dean looked at the clock with a frown, and Sam threw an eye at it. 6.03 AM. "Couldn't sleep?" Dean asked him.

Sam shook his head and looked down at the broken pieces on the table again. "Sorry for waking you. I... I dozed off and dropped my cup."

Dean slipped into the seat across from him, studying the shattered coffee cup with an unreadable expression in his eyes. When he looked up, Sam recognized it as a look of concern. "Your hands?"

Sam scowled, uncomprehending, and looked down at his hands. "Oh." There was blood on them, coming from a gash across palm and smaller cuts on his fingers. Dean handed him a paper towel which Sam pressed to his wounds.

"You okay?" Dean asked, gathering the porcelain limbs tainted with his baby brother's blood into a pile before sweeping it into the trash can.

Sam nodded but didn't meet his brother's worried eyes. "I'm fine."

Dean tilted his head, voice stern as he spoke. "Sammy."

The younger winchester sighed. "What, Dean?" he said, dejected.

"You... you know you can talk to me, right?"

Sam pressed his lips together. "I know." He opened his mouth as if to say something more, then shut it again and looked away. Dean remained patient, letting his brother take his time.

"It's just..." Sam continued, "it's just that, I don't know what to tell you. I don't know how. I can't... I can't talk about it."

"How about," Dean said slowly, "you start with telling me what you and Rowena talked about in the car. Why'd she need a moment?"

Sam wet his lips, staring down at his hands. "Lucifer." The word was but a whisper from his lips, but Dean stiffened visibly. It was as he'd guessed. "She told me he'd shown her his real face," Sam explained. "She was terrified. And I told her... I told her I'd seen it too."

He watched his older brother for his reaction, but Dean's expression didn't change much. His eyes just darkened, his lips pressing more tightly together.

"You wanna talk about it?" Dean asked Sam.

Sam exhaled deeply, closing his eyes briefly. "I... I can't. It... it's indescribable."

Dean nodded. "I get that," he said. "It's okay. Sammy, it's okay. Whatever you're feeling, it's alright. We're going to fix this."

"I just... I can't help but understand what she's feeling. Her desperation to use the book to power up..." Sam shrugged. "If there was anything in the world that could make me feel... less helpless, then I would want it too."

"You don't have to explain yourself, okay? I get why you gave her the page. I kinda wish I didn't, but... I do."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You do?"

"Yeah," Dean snorted, but his expression remained serious. "And I'm telling you, we'll get it. Whatever it is, whatever we need, to get mom and Jack back, we'll get it."

The youngest nodded a little, still looking doubtful. "You and me," he mumbled.

"Damn right." Dean grinned proudly at him. "You and me. We'll figure it out, like we always do. And when it comes to the devil... you know you're not powerless. You fought him in your noggin' and you _won_. You resisted him even when he seemed to be our only hope to beat the Darkness. Okay? He won't touch you again." His eyes were burning so intensely, and so sincerely with the belief that his little brother could beat the Devil, that Sam had no choice but to believe him. Dean must've seen the change in his brother's expression, because his posture relaxed significantly. "Go back to bed, little brother. Hey, you'll even get to sleep in."

Sam nodded and rose from his seat.

"The world just keeps almost ending, huh?" he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Dean snorted and gave him a nod. Sam turned away, heading back into the hallway, and the smile fell off his face. He felt better, but deep down, he knew he was only pushing it back down again.

 _The world kept almost ending, so I... I keep pushing it down._

This, inside him, the fear, it was nothing that words could fix. It was something he had to live with, and it was going to come flooding out from time to time. But the important thing was that with his brother by his side, Sam knew that he could keep rebuilding the dam that kept the dark water at bay.


End file.
